Two Weeks in Another Town (1962)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Two Weeks in Another Town (1962) – V. Minnelli

Ten years on, director Vincente Minnelli, writer Charles Schnee, and star Kirk Douglas try to recapture the bite of their earlier successful insider slam of Hollywood’s moral failings (The Bad and the Beautiful, 1952) with this spiritual successor.  Here, Douglas plays a washed up actor (Jack Andrus) who is contacted in the sanitorium by his former director Maurice Kruger, played by Edward G. Robinson, who is now also past his creative peak and working in Italy (at Cinecitta, no less).  It isn’t clear why Kruger calls Andrus but once he arrives in Italy, the histrionics begin.  Andrus is confronted by his ex-wife (Cyd Charisse) also in Rome and ready to become reacquainted despite being on the arm of a rich industrialist.  Andrus finds solace in the arms of Veronica, the girlfriend of the film’s self-destructive star, Davie Drew (George Hamilton).  Although Kruger ultimately decides that Andrus won’t appear onscreen (he is asked to supervise the dubbing), a sudden heart attack gives Andrus a second chance.  But can anyone forgive his narcissistic past? Claire Trevor also appears as Kruger’s wife who variously attacks and defends him.  So, it is all a bit soapy, occasionally over-the-top, sad in its knowingness about the arc of Hollywood careers, but not sharp enough to really be satisfying.    

  

The Good Liar (2019)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The Good Liar (2019) – B. Condon

Given the presence of Helen Mirren and Ian McKellen, I had high hopes that this tale of an elderly con-man swindling (not quite so) defenceless old widows would have some spark to it.  The acting is indeed strong but somehow let down by Bill Condon’s middling direction which fails to fully grasp the darkness in the plot.  Things get very disturbing, yes, but I feel that the horror of the events depicted could have hit home more fully through some different choices; there is less edge here than expected and that may be a calculated choice to appeal to audiences who appreciate more comfortable film fare.  Of course, the plot does telegraph the fact that Mirren’s character is craftier than she appears – that’s part of the suspense, as we wait for her to turn the tables on McKellen.  But the deeper themes that arise from knowing the characters’ history don’t seem to me to be fully explored, leaving the actors, as great as they are, hanging out in a difficult position trying to reveal all this explication on their faces over some rather banal dialogue.  Don’t get me wrong, this is a perfectly passable evening’s entertainment – it’s just that I had hoped for more.

Illustrious Corpses (1976)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Illustrious Corpses (1976) – F. Rosi

I’ve been delighted to discover that there are seemingly endless choices of films starring Lino Ventura as a weary police inspector (competing with his portrayals of gangsters under stress).  So, when I heard about this Italian offering from director Francesco Rosi, I tracked it down but could not find a matching subtitle file (and instead watched it with subtitles trailing the spoken word by about 90 seconds – adding considerable confusion).  The plot sees Ventura investigating the murder of an Italian High Court judge which quickly turns into a series of murders of judges on the bench.  The clues start to lead into a political direction at which point Ventura gets cautioned by his superiors – you know the drill.  However, you might not expect where the film goes next and I won’t spoil the rather downbeat conclusion.  Suffice it to say that the ending makes the film, although everything looks quite beautiful in Italy as shot by Pasqualino De Santis.  Even with (or especially with) problematic subtitles, I still can’t get over the Italian habit of post-synched sound though… but I guess it solves the problem of having Max von Sydow feature as the Chief Justice of the High Court (unless he speaks Italian).

 

All These Women (1964)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

All These Women (1964) – I. Bergman

Rather weird Bergman comedy, his first film in colour -- which some argue is his response to Fellini’s 8 ½ while others maintain it is his worst film ever.  I wouldn’t go that far but the plot about a famous cellist (always offscreen) besieged by a critic/biographer and surrounded by both wife and mistresses does offer a faint echo of the Italian maestro.  Clearly Bergman is trying to poke some fun at himself while also lashing out at those who might judge him. Jarl Kulle (also seen in The Devil’s Eye) plays the critic as a sort of Daffy Duck, always winding up with egg on his face, engaged in one slapstick moment after another.  He lusts after all these women (including Bibi Andersson, Harriet Andersson, and Eva Dahlbeck) and suggests that he will write a “tell-all” biography, unless the cellist plays the critics own composition on his next radio program.  Oh yes, and it is set in the 1920s with stereotypic costumes, hairstyles, and music:  prominently “Yes, We Have No Bananas”. It’s variously naughty, stagey, boring, and curious, but definitely not canonical.   

The Ωmega Man (1971)

 ☆ ☆ ½

The Ωmega Man (1971) – B. Sagal

If I wasn’t already familiar with the Vincent Price version of Richard Matheson’s novella “I am Legend” (entitled The Last Man on Earth, 1964), then perhaps I would have enjoyed this Charlton Heston version a bit more. There are some differences in the plotlines with Heston battling a religious cult of albino survivors of a virus spread by biological warfare and Price dealing with more traditional zombies (also created by a virus). Perhaps, yes, the middle of a pandemic is not the right time to watch this – or perhaps it is an especially right time?  Whereas Price had to contend with family members and former friends turning into zombies, Heston is more of a lone gun (foreshadowing his NRA affiliation?), a military scientist now on a vendetta to destroy the mutant cult.  Both are safe during the day (roaming the burnt-out city and “stealing” supplies) but in danger at night (when their foes wake up and attack). The very Seventies atmosphere here, including relevant cultural talking points such as an inter-racial love affair, made me think of TV shows like the Six Million Dollar Man, Bionic Woman, or similar – the special effects and costumes are, uh, that good. But at the end of the day, for all its weirdness, the Ωmega Man just isn’t as good as the similarly low budget (though B&W) earlier film.  

 

True Detective (Season 3, 2019)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

True Detective (Season 3, 2019) – N. Pizzolatto

Watching the third season of True Detective has left me with an uneasy feeling.  Of course, any drama/thriller about abducted children is bound to do that -- and also raise questions about whether there is entertainment value to be found in such a horror.  Worse, the show seems to lean toward suggesting that there could be pedophile rings that include members of the rich and powerful in society, a conspiracy theory that has attracted attention with the rise of QAnon and similar groups that thrive on sowing discord and confusion. No need to add more fuel to that dumpster fire, please.  Points about the way that the rich can get a free pass are well taken however (especially as compared to the fates of those who are poor or stigmatised). The plot finds Wayne Hays (Mahershala Ali), a Vietnam vet turned police detective, stuck in a rut, reliving the same (child abduction) case over and over, beginning in 1980, then again in 1990 when the case is re-opened, and finally in 2015, when suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, he is interviewed about the case by, yes, a conspiracy theorist.  The bouts of dementia mean that Hays is partly living in the past in his memories, which viewers get to see, such that it is never entirely clear how objective our information is (although some scenes that do not involve Hays are included, so who knows?).  The cast is rounded out by his partner (Stephen Dorff), with whom there is conflict and camaraderie, and his wife (Carmen Ejogo), who writes a book about the case, raising concerns about conflicts of interest.  The writers slowly dole out the clues and character developments across the 8 episodes, often showing us consequences before we see their cause – but at the end of the day, the big reveal is somewhat less than it could have been and we are left with a fantasy finale that can’t possibly be true.  The strong acting carries the day but I left feeling rather dissatisfied…and uneasy.   

 

Ingrid Goes West (2017)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Ingrid Goes West (2017) – M. Spicer

I guess I rarely watch any movies that are so relentlessly modern – the plot is really about the kinds of obsession that social media can create and the new job of “influencer” (though not named as such here).  Aubrey Plaza plays Ingrid who desperately wants to be liked/loved by the in crowd who portray themselves as being perfect on Instagram.  After her mother dies and she spends a few months institutionalised, Ingrid heads to Cali (with a sizeable, although not inexhaustible, inheritance) after fixating on one particular influencer, Taylor Sloane (Elizabeth Olsen), who is a rather stereotypic yuppie millennial.  Yes, Ingrid is a stalker.  As such, it is never quite clear whether the film is supposed to be a comedy or not (I take it that Plaza got her break via comedy TV) – if so, it is so black as to be indistinguishable from an anxiety-provoking drama seen from the damaged stalker’s point of view.  You do feel sympathy for Ingrid, despite all of the terrible things she does, perhaps because they are recognised to stem from some deep-seated insecurities. Of course, the film wants to make the larger point that social media is full of put-ons and people portraying themselves as different & better than they really are – which has the unintended consequence of making the weaker among us feel worse as a result of social comparisons with the illusions.  Watching Ingrid try to insinuate herself into the SoCal crowd where she doesn’t fit/belong is painful, so watch this if that’s your idea of fun!  Although the film is damning of social media, a brief afterthought about the positive effects of these communities is too little, too late.